soma
by Black Stripe
Summary: Lisa gets inadvertently drawn into another one of Jackson's business ventures, the kidnapping of a teenage heiress. this time though, they're on the same side. lisa x jackson
1. Chapter 1

SOMA

1.

Jackson sighed heavily and rubbed his temples, trying not to look at the crying girl in front of him. She sat bound at the wrists and ankles to a not uncomfortable looking chair. Behind her, the tenth floor view the early New York skyline hinted at yet another painfully hot day to beat upon the city.

The girl kept crying. She was really getting annoying, he thought.

"Please," she said desperately, leaning forward and trying to get his attention. "Please don't do this."

Jackson looked over at her shortly, his startling blue eyes flashing. He'd yet to say one word to her in the three hours since he'd entered the hotel room they were using to hide her. The Tribeca Grand Hotel was hardly a place where one would suspect a kidnapped heiress to be held captive for ransom.

"Please let me go," she moaned, twisting in her chair in a vain attempt to get out of the ropes that bound her. Her curling auburn hair fell in to her dark eyes, making her look all the more pitiful if it was possible.

"I'm sorry, Anna. I just can't do that," he said with a humorless smile and she burst another sound of heaving sobs.

She was Anna Carlton, the daughter of a business mogul and heiress to her father's vast fortune. She was only seventeen but could have passed for much older in her tweed channel jacket and high jimmy choo pumps; clearly a spoiled little rich girl who was no longer in her cushioned designer world.

Jackson was not her actual kidnapper. He was just the manager, they left the dirty work to common thugs. His part was to watch her for the following week and deliver her to her family and the money to his clients at the end of the ordeal. He was taking on most of the risk but at a benefit of fifteen per cent of the prophets.

She kept on crying hysterically, becoming louder than before. That wasn't safe. He stood from his place on the bed and strode over to her quickly. Terror quickly seized her eyes.

"You need to be quiet." He said firmly, as he pulled off his tie and doubled it over, turning it into a gag. "Good." He said, as she finally fell silent and let her head drop down so that those matted curls covered her pretty face once again.

Jackson sat back down, swallowing heavily. She made him nervous. The way she looked reminded him far too much of someone he most certainly cared to forget. Lisa Reisert, the only person, let alone woman to best him. Best was a relative term. More like nearly kill him and destroy the life he'd built for himself. The last time he'd seen Lisa was just after he'd been shot, and lying helplessly on her kitchen floor she'd stood over him, staring solemnly with those charming green eyes. Her eyes were as deceptive as Jackson could ever hope to be.

Jackson had woken up three days later in a sterile white hospital room. At first he'd felt an uncharacteristic feeling of dread flood his being until he realized things weren't quite as they were supposed to be. He was not handcuffed to the bed. There were no guards positioned outside the room. He wasn't even in Miami anymore, let alone facing charges of attempted man slaughter and conspiracy.

As it would turn out, many owed favors had pulled through for Jackson. People were paid off, files went missing and Jackson went missing. He spent the better part of a month in a private hospital in northern Vermont until he had fully recuperated. From there he suppressed the urge to fly straight to Miami and slit Lisa's throat. He wasn't stupid. That would have been brash and irresponsible, getting himself in trouble despite all the work that had gone into getting out of that mess by influentials who owed favors to him.

No, Jackson told himself he was taking the high road in sparing Lisa. Killing her would have felt good but it wasn't a means to an end.

Instead he'd gone to Paris and helped an old friend involved in the money laundering business. It was profitable, but short lived. That led him back to New York and his old apartment in lower Manhattan. It felt good to be home. It felt better to be doing something that would leave him with a high six figure digit pay check.

The door to the hotel room flung open and a scraggly balding man with long matted gray hair stumbled into the room. He could have passed for homeless had it not been for the tailored black suit and silk shirt he wore. The overwhelming stench of cigarettes and cheap cologne followed Bradley wherever he went. He was one of the actual kidnappers, and Jackson despised him instantly upon meeting him. He was a disgusting junkie and a thief and as far as Jackson could tell, completely incompetent.

Anna made a terrified sound and shrank back in her seat. Jackson found himself sympathizing with her as watched Bradley grin widely at her, baring a set of brown crooked teeth. A few were missing.

"You were gone too long," Jackson said stiffly, diverting his attention from Anna to himself. He had an idea that if left alone with her, she wouldn't come out of it with her…. innocence, if you will.

"Sorry, guy," Bradley chuckled, "My score was late."

Jackson's eyes narrowed. "You went out to score?" he asked in a low voice

Bradley just shrugged and wound his way over to Anna like the disgusting snake that he was.

Jackson wondered what the ordeal with Keefe would have been like if Bradley had been the one who had to make Lisa call her hotel. Would he have frightened her more? Made her make the call faster? No, probably not. She would have been disgusted by him, making her will of steel even more impenetrable. She probably would have stabbed Bradley in the throat within five minutes of meeting him, he thought vainly.

The thought of that pen in his neck made him unconsciously raise a hand to his throat to trace the slightly raised area where the scar was. He'd recovered perfectly, despite the slight rasp that held his voice now. He sounded like he'd chain smoked cigarettes for fifty years, it was better then not being able to speak at all, he supposed.

Bradley was now petting Anna's hair affectionately while she squeezed her eyes shut and leaned away from him stiffly.

"Get away from her." Jackson said his tone deadly. "Now."

"Jesus, calm down, guy." Bradley chuckled, moving away from the girl towards the mini bar. "Don't want to damage the goods? Is that it? Doesn't matter, does it? O' Riley's not here and so long as we get paid we can do what we want."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "If you lay a hand on her, I will kill you, Bradley." He said, hating how all he could think of was Lisa while he said it. Like he was saying it for Lisa, instead of Anna.

He thought about Bradley with Lisa in the bathroom in his place. Pushing her up against the wall, his dirty fingers scrabbling over her throat and chest. It made him feel nauseous, whereas that memory usually gave him a fleeting feeling of something positive he couldn't quite identify.

The sound of a key in the lock made all three of them look over at the door expectantly. Quinn, Bradley's far more tolerable partner entered the room with a duffle bag under his arm. Quinn was a tall man with a big nose and shaggy blonde hair. He always looked clean and smelled like soap, but that might have just been because you always saw him next to Bradley.

"Hey, Banks," Quinn said with a sigh, looking at Jackson. James Banks was Jackson's current name. It was what his passport and driver's license had said since he'd returned from France. Before that he'd been Arthur Benton, Marcus Kennedy, Thomas McKinnon, and so on. When he'd told Lisa his real name in the airport bar, he'd been surprised to hear it come out of his mouth. He hadn't planned on telling her that. Even his current girlfriend though his name was James. He was even more surprised by himself when he told her about being called Jack when he was ten. Jack the...

Quinn dropped the small bag down on the bed. "I got some stuff for her. You know. Girl things."

Jackson raised an eyebrow. These where the people he had to deal with. He had been left alone to watch Anna for three hours while tweedle-dee satiated his heroin addiction and tweedle-dum went to Saks fifth avenue to buy the hostage some new clothes.

Ridiculous.

---

Lisa climbed into the cab that waited for her outside JFK airport.

"The Tribeca Grand in Manhattan, please." She said to the driver, who promptly sped out of the parking lot at a rather alarming speed.

Lisa's phone began vibrating in her bag and she found it after rooting around for a bit in her spacious bag. "Lisa Reiser"

"OhmygodLisa!"

It was Cynthia. She sounded frantic as she relayed yet another life or death emergency to Lisa.

"It's the Caroline Party. They refuse to stay in suit 4080 even though we've just finished renovating it. They found out about the Keefe-thing and there _are_ no other suits, Lisa…."

Lisa smiled and calmly told Cynthia how to handle the situation. Calmly handle the situation. That was one of her top ten ways to handle stress. Also on the list was, assess the situation from all angles, not just yours. As well as, rely on facts, not assumptions.

The self help books had more then piled up in the last year. Life had gone back to a reletivly normal place, even after Jackson had disappeared from his hospital bed a few days after she'd saved the Keefe family. At first Lisa threw herself headfirst into her new start at life. She wanted to make sure she wasn't anymore of those boring things that Jackson Rippner had made her feel dominated her mundane life.

She even started dating a little. That had been short lived, though. Every man she met just seemed boring and unimpressive. Lisa didn't' have the energy to start a relationship with someone when she just felt like she was wasting her time with someone…. Like herself, really. Boring and Mundane. She's only had sex once in the past year too. It had been a disaster. He was attractive and nice enough, but to her horror at some point she realized it was him she was thinking about. Her mind wandered and she thought about _him. _Jackson, that bastard. Like some kind of moral deity who could see what she was doing. She thought about the dark hair that feel into those shockingly alert blue eyes and the pale curves of his cheekbones.

Then her horror grew as she thought back to being in the bathroom with him. When he'd almost killed her, choking her and pressing her into the wall, his face inches from hers. Lisa had promptly gotten out of bed and been sick in the toilet.

Now Lisa was back where she started. In a stable life dominated by work, romantic comedies and scrambled eggs.

But not Bay Breezes.

"Well, have fun at the conference," Cynthia said faintly, still sounding nervous about handing the Caroline's.

"Oh yes," Lisa joked, "A room full of hotel managers discussing guest services and how to increase customer satisfaction. I'm sure it will be exciting."

"Oh Lise," Cynthia laughed. "You never know, maybe Prince Charming will be the Manager of the Continental Hyatt House or something!"

Lisa hung up on Cynthia and watched out the window as they went over the bridge into Manhattan.

The flight had been stressful. She'd taken two codeine and ran a mantra of her stress relievers in her mind. Still, she couldn't bring herself to use the lavatory or look at anyone who might have been watching her. Lisa's paranoia had reached an all time high, even for someone who had been unknowingly stalked for eight weeks.

The cab pulled up to the Tribeca Grand and a bellhop helped Lisa with her case.

She saw a tall thin blonde man with a big nose waiting for the elevator on her way in. He carried a small duffle bag under his arm and wore a dark suit. They looked at each other and that tight paranoid feeling in her chest contracted slightly. She'd never seen him before in her life but the way he looked at her made her feel…. Scared.

Lisa decided not to think about it. Or Jackson. Or Planes. She decided to go up to her room, have a drink and prepare herself for the busy day of Hotel Managing meetings the next day.

---

Disclaimer: I don't own Jackson, Lisa or anything having to do with the Film Red Eye. But if I did I would have had them kiss AT LEAST ONCE.

Thanks, please review.


	2. Chapter 2

SOMA

2.

The wake up call sounded at 3.30am. Jackson pulled himself out of bed feeling completely unrested and dreading spending another day—let alone another week – in his present company. He showered and put on a fresh suit, then made his way down to room 803 where he wasn't surprised to find Bradley watching porn on the hotel television. Anna was still bound to her chair and appeared to be unconscious.

They switched out shifts and Jackson opted for the news rather than the aforementioned entertainment. He wasn't surprised to see that Anna had in fact made the news, but it only said she was missing, not that she'd been kidnapped. That wasn't a surprise either.

Sometime around dawn Anna woke up and Jackson handed her some orange juice with a straw, still careful not to look at her. Her hair was what really did his head in. When he couldn't see her face he would have sworn it was Lisa. It annoyed him that she was in his mind so often lately. He'd managed to put her away so that he would have to think about the pain she'd physically caused him. And the large dent to his ego.

"What's going to happen to me?" Anna asked softly, taking Jackson by surprise. He didn't particularly like playing the bad guy. He wasn't a bad guy. He was just doing his job. There wasn't any point in trying to scare her or sugarcoat it.

"Your father is going to pay us a large sum of money and in return we're not going to kill you." He said shortly.

She didn't say anything for a long time. "You're not like the other two" she said at last, an oddly profound statement.

"Yes, well, they're idiots." He said, setting her orange juice down on the side table next to her chair.

"What happens if my father doesn't pay you?"

Jackson looked at her squarely. "Then you're unfortunately, going to die."

Anna started sniffling again and it made him cringe.

"Don't worry, that won't happen. Your father probably wouldn't let it happen." He reassured her, not really meaning it. What could happen is that Dad and the police would try to get their cake and eat it too. In the movies that always works out in the end for the good guys. In real life people got paid or people died.

"You don't have to do this," Anna said suddenly, seriously. "My father would pay you—a lot if you backed out of this now."

"Look, I'm sorry. It's really unfortunate for you. Please shut up."

Later that day he had a meeting with one of the police detectives that Carlton had put out to find his daughter. It wasn't a formal meeting—it was in a bar in Soho, set up by the people Jackson worked for so as to get the message across perfectly clear. Nevertheless, he was sure it would be one of the stranger conversations to be had. Hello, I'm an accomplice in kidnapping a young girl, you can arrest me but you won't because she'll die if you do. Jackson would lay down the sum his clients wanted from Carlton and then he would reassure that everything was strictly professional and by the book so long as everyone got paid and was happy.

He wasn't looking forward to it.

---

Lisa woke up around noon feeling unrested and dreading spending the entire afternoon listening to speeches about increasing customer satisfaction. She leisured in bed for a long time, flipping through television but finding nothing worth watching.

After a long time of doing that she pulled herself out of bed and dressed in a simple black skirt and matching jacket with a thin camisole underneath. It was an absurdly hot New York day, to nice to waste indoors. Lisa decided her best chance was to take a wander around the city before her meeting at 4 pm.

The news was on in the background as she got dressed. More terrorist threats that might just be practical jokes, Tony Blaire initiates new environmental standards, young heiress goes missing. Lisa continued dressing, and as she did her mind began to wander back to one of its favorite and most taboo subjects. The plane trip with Jackson. Lisa had run the three hours over and over in her head a thousand times until she remembered every detail and conversation. It gave her a certain kind of piece of mind to know that even when something had seemed as hopeless as all that, she had still managed to pull herself through, along with several other people.

Lisa started out the door to her hotel room and got into the elevator, intending to ride it down to the lobby. She was on the fifteenth floor, and the elevator stopped twice. Once, to let a rather fat man on his cell phone off.

The numbers jumped past in front of her eyes. 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9… she felt like she was waiting for a bomb to go off.

Floor 8. The doors swung open, revealing a thin man with soft dark hair and rather pretty blue eyes. He looked at her for just a moment, recognition flashing across those blue eyes.

It was him, Lisa realized. It was Jackson.

---

write be a love letter and I'll be your best friend.


	3. Chapter 3

SOMA

3.

Jackson's disquieting blue eyes widened considerably at seeing Lisa standing there in the elevator. At first he thought he was seeing things, but then she opened her mouth and darted forward to slam the close button. Jackson rushed into the elevator before the doors shut and slammed her into the back wall of the elevator.

Lisa winced as she collided with the hand rail. She couldn't focus on much aside from the sensation of being pressed hard into the wall by Jackson, feeling as if she was suffocating under his weight. _This can't be happening, _she thought in vain. But Lisa wasn't afraid, just angry. Very angry that all of a sudden that her calm world was once again disrupted by Jackson Rippner. She had felt guilty about hurting him and putting him in the hospital. She didn't like to see anybody in pain, even him no matter how necessary it had been.

But now that guilt was gone and was replaced with a violently uncharacteristic anger in the pit of her stomach. She just wanted to hurt him for invading her life once again. For causing her all the anguish that he had before.

"Get off m—!" she was cut off by his soft hand on her mouth, the slim fingers digging into the sides of her face.

"What," Jackson's voice wheezed slightly as he let the word hiss out of the back of his throat as if he hadn't quite decided what he would say yet. She noticed the wheezing sound with satisfaction, no doubt thanks to the pen she'd stuck in his throat.

Jackson's head felt as if it had been shaded in a kind of buzzing white noise. He didn't know why she was there or what he was supposed to do with her other than keep her quiet. An uncharacteristic sense of panic snuck into his chest as he realized that Lisa could be very dangerous to him. Not physically, the gun tucked into the back of his trousers was basically a safe bet against that. But legally. Jackson had avoided her for a good reason. He didn't want to get fucked.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, still keeping his hand over her mouth. Lisa noticed that his normally clear blue eyes were slightly unfocused as he stared at her. She closed her eyes and tried to turn her face away from him.

The elevator gave a high pitched ding that startled both of them and started moving down. Jackson grasped her arm and keeping his hand firmly over her mouth he slammed her into the opposite wall where he could reach the emergency stop button.

They lurched to a stop and the elevator was suddenly filled with silence aside for Jackson's ragged breathing. Lisa kept her eyes shut, her face turned as far away from him as his hand would allow, which wasn't very far. Her mind pulled her back to the airplane bathroom—the familiar feeling of feeling trapped and claustrophobic between the wall and Jackson, the sugary and oddly calming scent of his cologne and the deceptively soft hands that could do much more harm than the thin fingers seemed capable of.

"Look at me," he demanded, and Lisa's gaze slowly found his. He looked confused and unsure. She realized this wasn't planned.

What were the odds?

She went slack in his grip, like the air being let out of a balloon. The hand that was wound tightly around her arm relaxed and after a moment he let the hand covering her mouth drop to her shoulder, strangely. As if he was checking to make sure she was still there.

Then for a long time neither of them said anything, they just looked at each other. Stalker and Victim. Assassin and Hotel Manager. Boy and Girl. Both with equally bewildered looks on their faces as their charmingly deceptive eyes depicted nothing but the truth for once.

Then suddenly Lisa made an angry sound in the back of her throat and she pulled back her hand to slap Jackson. He caught her wrist easily and pinned her hand to the wall above her head, his gaze suddenly becoming challenging and she met it with unequivocal sincerity.

Lisa threw her all her weight at his chest and managed to catch him off guard and slam him into the elevator doors, her small frame doing its best to get enough leverage to do some bodily harm to him. She didn't really think, her hands wrapped around his throat and she felt tears of frustration prick at her eyes as he pried them off and she batted his hands away in a frantic and womanly manner.

Jackson gripped the lapel of her jacket and with a slight sneer flipped her around so he had the upper hand again. His hands moved up to her throat and he rested them there, not finding the energy or drive to squeeze the breath out of her. He thought about how much he had wanted to kill her after chasing her through the airport and then around her half renovated house. How much pain he had wanted to inflict on Lisa Reisert's life as he lay in the hospital bed for a month. Then the rational side of his mind kicked in. Revenge was natural, but Lisa was different. Lisa could be his downfall in more than one way.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded again.

Lisa pressed her lips together in a thin line. "I'm here on business, what are _you_ doing here. What do you want from me?"

Jackson gave a short laugh. "I'm not here for anything to do with you, Lisa" he said. "Although, I am afraid I'll have to do something with you now."

Lisa's mouth opened and closed but she couldn't seem to think of anything to say.

Meanwhile, Jackson's mind began to work overtime. He couldn't let her go. She would run to the police and then he would be screwed. He couldn't kill her… he didn't want to kill her. That left him with the option of keeping her with him, although he didn't know to what end. Perhaps just scare her into keeping quiet? God, this was so unfortunate and with such bad timing, too. The pay off for his current business venture was too big to let Lisa get in the way of no matter what he felt about his revenge for her. Having her around would jeopardize that as well. The others would want her killed, they all knew about what she'd done to him, after all.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked

He looked at her wearily, "I'm not quite sure yet," he admitted and reached around to press the emergency alarm button off and then pressed the floor eight button again.

"You could let me go," she said hopefully.

He gave her a dubious look. "You're going to stay with me for a little while, I think." He saw her start to reach into her bag and before she could get whatever everyday object turned violent weapon out he had pulled the gun on her, pointed straight between her eyes. He noticed with some amusement that she went slightly cross eyed as she looked down the barrel of the gun.

Lisa felt a cold terror grip her stomach as Jackson swung the gun around at her.

"No, whatever it is don't try it. I was ready to dismember you last time I saw you, if I don't recall. Please, Lisa, don't make me kill you." He gave her a simpering smile and the elevator doors slid open to his floor.

Jackson tucked the gun back into the back of his trousers and motioned for her to leave the elevator. "Room 812" he said and she glanced back at him, seeming more annoyed than anything else.

In truth, Lisa was surprised at her feelings towards the situation. She wasn't scared, even after he'd pointed a gun in her face, something told her if he had any intention of hurting or killing her he would have done it already. It confused her, after all the pain she'd assumed to cause him, he was acting as if she was an inconvenience instead of… a prisoner. She was annoyed and angry with him, but couldn't muster up the energy to hate him entirely. There was something about his manner that was too much like the Jackson Rippner she'd had drinks with in the hotel terminal to really hate him. It disturbed her that she felt so…. Relaxed.

Jackson prodded her into his room, reaching around her to unlock the door with his room card.

Lisa stumbled on the carpet and surveyed the room as Jackson came in behind her. His hotel room was identical to hers in the clean minimal design that all the hotel rooms at the Tribeca Grand had. However, instead of her neat and orderly suitcases, situated perfectly on the suitcase rack with the clothes still folded inside, he had his case propped open on the desk, with a suit jacked hanging over the back of his chair and several shirts, ties and tee-shirts thrown casually on the bed. Little orange prescription bottles littered the bed side table and desk along with a half empty fifth of Jack Daniels and several empty energy drink cans. There were at least two New York times spread out across the room, which led her to believe he'd only been staying at the Tribeca for two days. The room looked like he'd been living in it for ages and smelled like that gentle, sugary cologne of his.

"You're rather messy," she noted

Jackson gestured for her to sit on the bed and he pulled the chair away from the desk and sat facing her. "We're in a bit of a predicament her, Lisa." He said evenly.

"Right, perhaps you should let me go." She said, matching his reasonable tone.

"Don't be cute," he said shortly. "You're here on business, right? I'm here on business as well."

Lisa's eyes narrowed. "What kind of business? Killing more innocent families?"

Jackson's jaw worked in frustration and he spoke slowly as if she were a child. "I don't kill people, Lisa. I told you before, I do my part and move on. No one gets hurt if everyone plays along."

"Oh, no one gets hurt other than a good man and hiswife and children!" she shouted indignantly.

"You may find this hard to believe but I had no desire to see Keefe and his family become history. I didn't _care _about Keefe. I cared about you and what I needed to get you to do to get the job done," his eyes trained on her face and she refused to look at him again. She stared out the window instead, her face showing tension and nerves. He sighed, as if reading her mind. "And I'm not going to try to kill you, in case you were wondering."

"Oh, really?" she scoffed, although inside she breathed a large sigh of relief. She still wasn't sure what he was capable of, but for some reason she knew she could trust his word. "Decided to rise above petty revenge"

Jackson sneered at her. Her petulance grated on his nerves like nothing else. "Yes," he snapped back, his tone clipped and deadly. "Although I did notice that you seemed to be taking out your anger for a certain parking-lot friend on me that day at your house. Was it cathartic stabbing me in the throat? I suppose I remind you of him? Come on, Lisa, I know you better than you think. That was pure female-driven hysteria, not self defense. You were exercising your demons on me."

His tone became indignant and she remained quiet. "You nearly killed me, you realize? Would that have made you any better than me? No, not at all."

She glared at him hard for bringing up… the parking lot. She hadn't even thought about that. Did Jackson remind her of him? She felt cold chills run down her spine as she tried to correlate the two in her mind. The answer was unequivocally no. Not at all. She didn't know why, but even though Jackson invaded her personal space like none other, she felt far less fear at the idea of tangling with him than the man that had raped her.

She couldn't think of anything to say. She entertained trying to defend herself but she realized there was no need for that. Jackson would have hurt her badly had she not done her best to stop him. But was he right? He didn't remind her of the other man at all…

"What are you, a psychologist now?" she sputtered indignantly

"Yes, actually." He said stiffly.

Lisa blinked. She couldn't help it. She had been sucked back into the Tex Mex with charming Jackson, not criminally insane assassin Jackson.

"You're a psychologist?" she asked incredulously, it seemed beyond her. Not so much the fact that could possibly be something besides a pathetic murdering con man, but that saying that made him seem so much more human. Human wasn't something she equated with Jackson the assassin.

He pursed his lips, feeling strange telling her that information. "Yes… I… got my—" he stopped talking and glared at her. "I finished my MA and started a private practice. Then… I changed my mind."

"How old are you?" she asked, still bewildered by this new information.

He looked startled. "Twenty-eight" he said slowly, cautiously. "Stop asking me questions like that."

Lisa cocked her head to the side, seeing that she'd struck a nerve. "Why?"

"Because you already know my name and that's enough reason for me, or any of my associates to give cause to kill you, Lise. You don't need to know anything about me." He tried holding her gaze as he said all of this in order for her to realize how serious he was but she kept letting her eyes flick away from his as if she couldn't handle the eye contact. Jackson moved over to sit next to her on the bed and she visibly tensed. He reached out and turned her face towards him.

She met his eyes evenly, and found herself a bit entranced by the endless blue of his eyes. She had never seen anything like them. Lisa set her jaw, still maintaining eye contact but focusing now. "You know everything about me, why can't I know anything about you?"

"You know why," he said impatiently and got up off the bed and walked over to his side table where he picked up a prescription bottle and took out a small blue pill. He swallowed it with some water from a glass on the table.

She talked as she watched him do these oddly routine things. She decided to try a different tactic to get information out of him. "What is your business this time."

He sent her a scathing look and she balked at him. "If you're going to steal me I need to know what is going on. You can't leave me in the dark on this."

He ignored her question. "So, you're saying you're willingly leaving yourself over to me, without a fight?" he asked her, a small smile playing on his lips. "Why do I feel like I'm about to be stabbed in the neck?"

"I just want to know." She said with a slight edge to her voice.

Jackson regarded her quietly for a long moment and then sighed. "Okay," he said, sitting back down next to her. "Do you know who Anna Carlton is?" he asked.

Lisa paused, and then nodded. "She's some real estate mogul's daughter, right? She's dating that singer…"

"That's right," Jackson nodded. "She's been held for ransom about four rooms down." His voice was flat, tonless, almost funny.

"What?" a small crease formed in the middle of her eyebrows as she tried to make sense of it. "She's here? In this hotel?"

"Four rooms down." Jackson repeated.

"You've kidnapped her?" she stated accusingly

"I didn't kidnap her," Jackson scoffed, "I'm not a common criminal, you know, Lise. I don't get paid to kill political officials and kidnap spoiled rich girls. I manage things. Keep things under control." He couldn't help but add. "Like you." Because even if he hadn't been able to control her, saying it made it hurt less.

Lisa wasn't sure what to say. Part of her wasn't remotely surprised that there was a kidnapped heiress in her midst. Another part of her realized that she should feel bad for the girl, want to help her, save her from Jackson and his associates. That part of her was weak though, for she was far more concerned with her own safety this time than that of a girl she'd never met. Lisa wondered how it was possible for her to feel so flippant about the situation.

_I should want to help her, _she thought. She couldn't help but believe it was the flippant manner in which Jackson regarded the situation.

"So how much is the pay off?" she asked, almost joking.

"Five million."

A silence so thick filled the room that Jackson felt his lips stretch into a real smile. She looked shocked. And… what else was that in her face? Was she impressed?

"Wow," she breathed, eyebrows arched high "You're really taking him to the cleaners."

"Not really." Jackson shrugged, "He made One-Hundred Million last year alone in real estate, not to mention his stock investments, his ties with NBC and the revenue from the financial magazine he's supporting."

Lisa didn't have anything to say to that.

"What, no moral high road from you, Lise?" he prodded, amused by her reaction.

She just shrugged.

Jackson checked his watch and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I need you to understand something." He said, leaning back on his elbows away from her. She leaned towards him without thinking about it. Jackson made his face void of any emotion. She did the same. He could see the tension ticking away behind her eyes, though. He wondered if she could see the amusement in his.

"What?" she asked at last, tired of his staring games.

Jackson bowed his head and looked back up at her. "These are dangerous people." He said. "You might not be afraid of me anymore, which is very unwise of you, I might add, but you should be wary of my associates." He coughed suddenly and pressed a hand to the scar at his throat before continuing, "If they found out you were Lisa Reisert they would kill you, Lise. They know what you did to me and that you were the reason Keefe is alive and that I have a very sour relationship with several Russian partners now. You're not only a threat in that you know who I am and who they are through me, but you know about Anna.

"Now, I don't trust you one bit so I can't leave you here. I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to leave you anywhere at least to the end of this week, Lisa." He saw the look on her face and e shrugged. "Sorry, at the end of this week I'll be on a plane to Switzerland and you can run home to Cynthia and Daddy." He said the last part in a rather nasty tone that made her cringe.

"I think it's fair to say that when my associates meet you they're not going to be very pleased that I brought you into this. Therefore, you're going to be posing as my girlfriend, Constance." He said, a slightly unpleasant look coming onto his face as he said the last part.

"Constance?" she repeated, and looked at him with her lips pressed thinly together. "I think you should understand that I am not going to comply with everything you have just directed me to do. You _can't_ keep me here for a week. I have to go back to Miami tomorrow, I have to go to a business meeting this afternoon! And I certainly refuse to masquerade as your girlfriend." She huffed slightly.

Jackson stared at her for a moment, his lips pursed. Then he sighed heavily and swung the gun out again. "Lisa, please?" he said, voice sounding highly annoyed. "Do not make me shoot you, I really do not want to go through the bullshit."

Lisa drew back from him instinctively and glared at him. "What is wrong with you?"

He put the gun away and looked at her squarely. "Nothing. Self preservation." He said simply, and pushed a tuft of dark hair out of his eyes as he avoided looking at her again. Her eyes were so invading suddenly, he didn't want her to see what he was thinking.

Quiet filled the hotel room again and then at last she said. "What kind of a name is Constance? Couldn't you pick something better?"

Jackson looked at her, a very strange look on his face when she said that. "It's my girlfriend's name." he said shortly.

Lisa felt a cold jolt of surprise stab her in the stomach and she cocked her head to the side. So… Mr. Jackson Rippner had a personal life after all. It was weird. Weirder than anything he'd said to her yet. She tried to picture Jackson with a girl, maybe holding hands or kissing in the park. The only image she could conjure up was the one of him slamming her into walls in the airplane bathroom though. Come to think of it, she'd never seen him interact with another person aside from herself and briefly with other passengers on the plane.

She wondered if Tex Mex Jackson was what real life Jackson was like. She wondered if there was a real life Jackson at all, and if his girlfriend had to deal with him as he was now all the time. Or did she get the other version of him. The sweet, charming gentlemanly, handsome man from the airport terminal bar.

"You have a girlfriend?" she asked, green eyes as wide as saucers, he noted. Interesting. She seemed not only shocked by this, but slightly put off.

That was it. No more personal information, he decided.

"What--- what's she like?" Lisa asked, intrigued. She shook her head, determined not to sound as… well, fascinated as she felt. "Does she kidnap teenage heiress's and help kill politicians, too?"

Jackson sent her a look that she pretended not to interpret. "No, I suppose you should know. She's a model. She lives in Paris."

"Oh," Lisa echoed faintly, feeling very very small all of a sudden. Jackson didn't seem to mind talking about Constance, who Lisa was now envisioning a six foot tall statuesque blonde girl with a sexy accent and sexy lingerie. Well, that seemed a bit fitting, somehow for Jackson. He was, after all, from a purely clinical point of view a very attractive person. It did make a bit of sense.

"Is she French?" Lisa asked, quietly.

Jackson had an odd look on his face, as if he'd just swallowed a marble or something similarly awkward. "No, she's from New York, she's just working over there."

"It must be hard to keep up the relationship over seas" Lisa heard herself say. Okay, now things were getting very strange. She couldn't possibly be talking about her stalker and near murder's love life, could she? Yet some part of her was tragically fascinated and need to know more. Perhaps if she knew more about him she would understand him enough to know his weaknesses like he knew hers.

"No, I'm over there a lot." He said, and reached into his pocket for his wallet. Lisa remembered when he'd pulled her Father's wallet out of his pocket and placed it on the tray table in front of her. The shock that had coursed through her, there was a dull pulse of it in her veins now.

Jackson pulled out a folded up picture held it out to her. It was a small picture of Jackson and an extremely thin red head with large green eyes sitting together on a chaise lounge. They were wearing formal clothes and she had her legs kicked over his lap, her green eyes sparkling as she gazed into the camera and Jackson looked off in another direction, a small smile playing at his lips at whatever was distracting him. His hand was placed atop Constance's thigh.

_Wow,_ thought Lisa. She couldn't bring up any other kind of coherent thought other than that. Wow. "She's beautiful." She said, unable to think of anything else.

"Yes, she is" Jackson said derisively as he took the picture back from her and stuffed it into his wallet, tucking it out of sight. "But she's also cheating on me." He shrugged

Lisa's lips quirked suddenly. _Karma is going to kill you, Jackson Rippner,_ she thought meanly.

"Besides," he said flippantly as he got to his feet and straightened his jacket. "You're beautiful too. Alright, we're going to go over there now. Call me James. Respond to Constance," he leaned closer to her, close enough to make a point, perhaps to close. His hands rested on the bed behind her and forced her to lean back so she would look him in the eye.

"Don't do anything stupid."

Lisa stood up, ignoring the hand he offered her and followed him out of the room. She would respond to Constance and call him James but she tried to tell herself it didn't have to do with calling her beautiful, but because he had a gun in his pocket.

---

A/N: Dude, LONG ONE. I'm spent. **1**. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm overwhelmed with love and thank you from the bottom of my heart**. 2**. Those of you who write Red Eye stories who are reading this—stop reading this and go write a new chapter to your story right now. Please? **3**. If anyone feels so inclined to write a different summery for me, I don't like mine, so if you feel so inclined. I don't know, I'm just rambling now.

Okay, now that we're kind of_ really_ getting into the story I would very much like to know what you think. Is it going somewhere good? Or do you think I've bollixed it all up somehow? Let me know you guys, your reviews are important. Thank you. XXXX


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Um, so I just wanted to say that you're all basically amazing. I left a couple love notes to people who were kind of particularly amazing. Also, many apologies for the last chapter which had brutal typos and just… non-editing things going on with it. I was extremely intoxicated whilst writing that, hence getting confused with Cillian Murphy in Batman Begins and Cillian Murphy in Red Eye. I was like… wait… psychologist? When I re-read it. But then it gave me a couple ideas of how to develop his character further, which is really what I'm playing with most right now. Guys, let me know if this starts becoming a romantic comedy on accident. I just can't help it, I'm not so good at the action/adventure but I don't want it to be stupid or cliché. Okay, that's all from me. I'm going sally forth and write you all some sober words.

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SOMA

4.

Lisa followed Jackson down the hallway towards the room where his 'associates' were staying. She stayed a few paces behind him and contemplated running in the opposite direction towards the elevators. The thought was immediately replaced by a rather gruesome image of Jackson sighing heavily and then pulling out the gun and shooting her easily. She hadn't given much thought as to how to get out of her predicament yet. As far as she could tell, she wasn't in any immediate danger with Jackson, although she wasn't particularly sure why. He seemed more nervous about her being around this time. Lisa suspected Jackson would have preferred never to see her again after the way things had ended with them. For some reason, this offended her.

Jackson glanced back at Lisa as they stood outside the door to room 803. He pursed his lips and looked at her much like one would look at a spoiled child. "I'd like you to agree to understand how precarious this situation is." He said smoothly.

Lisa just nodded, tottering a little bit in her high heels under his gaze.

"Lisa?" he said, reaching out to turn her face towards his.

She simply looked at him with what she hoped was a certain degree of loathing. "Alright."

"Good," he said, twisting her face a bit more in his direction. "And although I still don't trust you at all, please promise me you won't do anything stupid. It's for your good as well as mine."

"Yes." She mumbled, casting her eyes away from him.

Jackson nodded and let go of her. He pulled a room key out of his pocket but hesitated before putting it into the lock. "Er, here." He offered her his hand awkwardly and sent her a warning look. Lisa held his hand, completely bewildered as they walked into the room.

Her eyes widened as she took in the three men standing around a brunette teenage girl who was bound to a large chair next to the window. Two of the men wore cheap dark suits and had the look of complete idiocy about them. They were both holding half eaten Subway sandwiches and appeared engrossed in an argument that included a lot of gesturing to the girl. The third man stuck out in a dark blue polo shirt, expensive looking jeans and polished athletic shoes. He had highly styled blonde hair and looked from Lisa to Jackson with raised eyebrows.

Jackson inwardly groaned. If Bradley was incompetent and annoying, Dean O'Riley made him look like a saint. He was John O'Riley's son, a complete and utter waste of space as far as Jackson was concerned. Dean was more interested in looking the white gangster part than actually doing any good for his Father. For the most part, Dean ran around making empty threats and saying 'When my father hears about this!' He and Jackson had always had a tense relationship, but Jackson had always been in good favor with the client so Dean couldn't do much aside from act superior.

"Who's this, Banks?" asked Bradley, looking pointedly at Lisa. She felt a slight chill run over her skin at the way they all looked at her. Appraisingly, but also clearly very irked at her presence. Annoying people with guns wasn't exactly what Lisa considered to be a good idea. She hated Jackson for bringing her in there for a moment and fought the urge to step closer to him as the lesser of two evils. Jackson pulled her closer any way and Lisa froze up at the oddly protective gesture, suddenly very frightened of the other men.

"Constance, my girlfriend." Jackson said shortly, not even looking at the man who had addressed him. He was staring at the blonde man in the polo shirt and stepped away from Lisa momentarily to shake his hand. "Hello Dean." It came out smoothly and relaxed although when he stepped back towards her, Lisa could feel the tension in his arms.

"Hi James," said Dean. "My Father wanted an update on how things were going." He gave Lisa a charming smile. "Hello Constance, you changed your hair?"

Lisa touched her hair absentmindedly. "Yeah," she murmured distractedly. "I was tired of the red." She added.

Dean smirked at her and she returned with a simpering smile. "Well, you look smashing as always." He winked at her and Lisa found herself shrinking back towards Jackson. Lesser of two evils, she reminded herself.

"How come you never told us you were bringing her up here?" asked the other suited man.

Jackson didn't respond, he was still staring at Dean and had pulled Lisa so close to his side that she was now holding onto his elbow with her free hand.

"Things are going smoothly, Dean. I'm seeing Mathew Polaski at the bank tomorrow and I believe he'll be ready for the drop on Friday. There's a meeting with _Detective Cramer of New York_," he said this rather dryly, as if it were an inside joke that made the other three men chuckle slightly. "I think he just wants confirmation, I'm taking Andrews…" Jackson trailed off for a moment and Lisa saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eye. "Andrews and McCarther have been trailing the Carlton's for the past two days. They tell me they're rather upset but holding on and we shouldn't have to worry about any acts of righteousness."

Dean nodded resolutely and pulled out his cell phone. "Sounds good, James." He said, typing in what appeared to be a text message as he talked. "There is one thing though…" He looked up suddenly and jerked his head in the direction of Lisa.

"She's not in on this, why did you bring her up here?"

Jackson couldn't help the sneer that graced his face. He opened his mouth to retort but Lisa spoke first.

"I—I just flew in from Paris to surprise—James." She said, her voice faltering only slightly as she said his name. "I didn't realize he was working—I'm sorry." She offered Dean what she hoped was a rather appealing apologetic look. It made her feel ill to think about what she was doing. She hated the idea of being a weak woman latched onto a man's arm. She hoped the real Constance didn't act like this. She suspected if she was with Jackson it was highly unlikely that she was one of those weak flimsy women.

It worked though, because Dean started grinning crookedly at Lisa and shrugged. "Keep her with you James. She doesn't leave your side until Saturday morning, just in case she gets any ideas."

"She's trustworthy," Jackson said, almost lazily.

"Okay," Dean was still typing on his cell phone and it rang loudly, a shrill buzzing trance ring tone that made Lisa and Jackson cringe simultaneously. He smiled at Lisa apologetically. "I'm sorry, I have to take this. It was lovely to see you again Constance—" And with that Dean O'Riley left the room in a flurry of spoiled little Daddy's boy glory.

Jackson released his grip on Lisa and when she looked up at him, clearly confused he rolled his eyes and mumbled. "Tell you later."

Bradley tossed the rest of his sandwhich in the trash can near the desk and set about lighting a cigarette. "So," he said conversationally, leering at Lisa. She couldn't do much to get away from this guy's eyes, and Jackson was no longer acting over protective so Lisa chose to look at Anna. The girl looked awful, she had black rings under her eyes and had streaks of black mascara down her face from where she had been crying. Her eyes were puffy, her hair a bit frizzy, her face rather blank as she leaned back in the chair, clearly defeated.

Lisa felt sympathy go out to the girl and she immediately wanted nothing more than to grab Anna and run for the door. _This is why I hate him, he's a monster_. Lisa told herself, taking another step away from Jackson towards Anna.

"You didn't introduce us," Bradley said, taking a long drag off his cigarette.

Jackson ground his teeth, he could see Lisa watching Anna and he didn't like the looks of it. He knew first hand that when Lisa got self righteous and humanitarian she became very hard to work with. He jerked her wrist and pulled her back to him, winding an arm around her throat possessively. To the others it looked loving and kind, but Lisa only felt the dull weight of his arm pressing against her throat.

Anna sent her a strange look.

"Constance this is Bradley, Quinn and Anna," Jackson drawled, pointing to each person in the room.

"Nice to meet you," she said with false cheer and Jackson loosened his grip on her a bit, as if to remind her that playing along with the game made things easier on herself.

"What do you do, Miss. Constance?" Quinn asked. Lisa immediately found him creepy, but in a rather pathetic teenage boy way.

"I—er model" she said, tripping over the words.

"You're a bit short for a model," Anna suddenly said, and Lisa turned to stare at her fellow kidnapee in surprise.

"I'm sorry," Lisa shrugged, suddenly feeling less inclined to help her.

"Must pay well if you're living in Paris," Quinn continued, almost talking to himself. He pushed some stiff blonde hair off his forehead. "You do those big fancy fashion shows, then? Like with Naomi Campbell and Heidi Klumm?"

Lisa hesitated and then nodded resolutely. "Yeah—yes, sure." She mumbled glibly.

"You ever do Victoria's Secrets?" Bradley asked, grinning at her with his dirty teeth.

Jackson tightened his arm around Lisa, making it hard for her to breathe and she tried to discreetly pry him off but he didn't seem to realize he was doing it. "No—I'm not--- no Victoria's Secret." she said and finally tried a different tactic to get Jackson off of her. "Love, what time are we going to meet the Detective?" she asked, twisting around to stare up at him. The blue eyes stared back down at her, almost disembodied from his face at that angle. He was frowning at her, clearly very confused. "Oh—ah, at one." He said.

"You should be going then, Banks." Said Quinn, seriously. "Almost twelve-thirty now."

"Yes, thank you for that Quinn," Jackson said, his face belying the dislike he had for the other man. "We'll see you later, then."

And with that Lisa and Jackson left the hotel room, arms still entwined until they got out the door and Jackson pulled himself away from her far quicker than might have been necessary. "You're good at lying." He told her, sending her a crooked, amused grin.

"You already knew that," she said, contemptuously. "So are you."

Jackson shook his head. "No, I'm not. I'm good at manipulating people, there's a difference."

Lisa raised her eyebrows and planted her hands on her hips. "Are you manipulating me right now?"

Jackson laughed. "To do what?"

"I don't know," she shrugged "In general are you manipulating me? Like in there, you nearly choked me to death. And when you tell me about Constance—was that to make me like you more? To trust you? Because I honestly do not trust you as far as I can throw you, Jackson. I never will."

He sighed and shook his head at her. "I'm not manipulating you on purpose, Lise. But you—now, if only you'd use those little white lies for better things."

"Like killing people?" she snapped.

Jackson's eyes darkened and for a moment she felt bad for saying it. "No, but you'd make one good—_manager_." He said the word so slickly and slowly that as he said it Lisa had a vision of her in Jackson's place. She being the one to stalk him for eight weeks, slam him around bathroom walls, head butt him, hold his family hostage. Etc. It sounded like he flew around a lot, saw a lot of different cities, dated hot models living in Paris. Was Jackson's life glamorous? She couldn't tell. Perhaps it was. There had to be some incentive behind doing this line of work, she supposed the main reason was money.

Lisa wondered what if he really like his life, odd as it was.

"Hey Lise,"

"What?" she asked

She glanced over at him, he had led them over to the elevator and was pressing the down button. Jackson had a broad smirk on his face as he watched her.

"I'm manipulating you again."

---

AN: Right-o. hope that didn't suck. I'd feel really really bad if it did. Next time: more back-story for Jackson, more pretending to be the girlfriend, some sleeping… really exciting stuff, I promise.

Thanks:

**playnirvana24** Well, I'm an American and I live in London for half the year so I end up saying stupid think like bollix and loo and I just end up confusing people. I think I stopped spelling color 'colour' while I was writing this, and have decidedly avoided using 'programme', 'centre', and 'aeroplane'.

**Clair Hall**: OMG! THANKS! Your review just made me smile so I wanted to tell you you're basically, like, amazing. Anytime people say I'm better than everyone else, I tend to like those people more. No, no, just kidding, I don't feel like that but thank you for the kind words and I love puppies and easily breakable things.

**the super nugget**I know you reviewed 2 and basically correctly predicted the wall slamming in an elevator and such, but I wanted to say thanks anyway because you got the point of the story smack on. How do feel about more Jackson-shoving-lisa-into-walls? I think it could become a central part of the story.

**The Nth Degree**: Confetti! I'm glad you liked the Jackson's personal life bit. A lot of people liked that and I'm kind of surprised. I mean, he must have one right? So there's going to bee oodles more of that. Can you guess what Jackson gets at Starbucks?

**SpadesJade**: Yeah, I'm kind of tired of the whole revenge thing. I thought about it and I was like, yeah, I can see him going all crazy and trying to kill her or rape her or whatever—but then, the guy's not all bad, is he? I mean, he's a very rational person through the whole first half of the movie except for when she does things to really piss him off and then it's like, crazy-wall-slamming Jackson (even thought that's hot). But I think he has his limits and I think being nearly killed by a woman who he very clearly has an emotional attachment to in one way or another would make him take a step back and go, whoa there Jackson. Buuuut then again I've been daydreaming about this all day instead of concentrating on work so I could be over-analyzing. But anyway thank you muchly for giving me such a nice little review. I like Lisa and Jackson to banter too. They're both rather feisty, aren't they?

And thank you to everyone else who reviewed, I would have liked to say something to all of you because I love you all for being so nice to me but then I thought, well, I could post it now or I could post it a half an hour from now when I finish….hmmmm…let me know what you kids think of this wee chapter here.

One, two, three, go. XXXXXXX


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